


Oh Captain, My Captain

by yofrere



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Avengers - Freeform, Community: avengerkink, M/M, Prostitution, pre-avengers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-07-09
Packaged: 2017-11-09 12:11:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/455310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yofrere/pseuds/yofrere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before he met Loki, before discovering Mjolnir, before Tony Stark, Phillip Coulson was just a regular man.</p><p>Fresh out of college and barely 22, the agency didn’t think Phil was quite ready to join them so they set him up with a boring nine-to-five and told him his time would come. That pissed Phil off a little considering how eager they were to recruit him five years back, telling him how vital he was, but he let it slide; the job paid well enough and it wasn’t too far from his apartment. He took the job and settled into a bit of a routine, waiting for his time to come.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. If You Need Me, I'm Your Man

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for this prompt from the Avengers kink meme:
> 
> In his younger years, Coulson was a regular client of a blonde male prostitute who would dress up as Captain America during sex. Can just be a past fic, or you can have the Avengers and/or Steve find out in the present. Ending with actual Coulson/Steve would be appreciated!
> 
> Thread [here](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/5758.html?thread=6342270). Also on my [LJ](yofrere.livejournal.com/tag/fic:%20oh%20captain).

            Maybe it was a coincidence that Phil passed a sex shop on his way home from the bar, that it was the first night in months that his coworkers got him to unwind and take a shot, that he caught a glimpse of red, white, and blue through the front window displays; maybe it wasn’t. Either way, he walked into the shop and headed straight for the Captain America costume. The colors of it sparkled under the lights and mesmerized the young man. He grasped it in his hands, stroked it with his thumbs and sighed with content. Quickly, he searched for the price tag and blanched when he found it. The suit would put a big dent in his bank account but it was worth it, and it was worth living on ramen noodles for the next week.

            He took it off the rack and walked it over to the check out counter where a head of blonde hair was resting. Phil cleared his throat. The head of hair shot up and Phil was faced with two gorgeous blue eyes. “Um, would you like me to ring that up?” Phil handed him the costume over the counter and waited. He didn’t really mean to stare but he couldn’t help it, he was drunk and he hadn’t gotten laid since he’d taken his damn job. He felt he was obligated to gaze at a hot piece of ass every now and then. Of course, he wasn’t supposed to get caught.

            Phil snapped out of his reverie and smiled faintly in apology, taking out his wallet to get his card. When the cashier handed it back, Phil grabbed it and took it back except, the cashier wasn’t letting go. Phil looked at him, confused, but he wasn’t looking back. In fact, he was looking every where but at Phil. “Look,” he said pointedly, “I need some cash quick and I don’t know how else to get it. If you’re willing to pay, I- I can give you what you want.”

            Phil stared at him again; what the hell was he talking about? “I don’t understand. Are you trying to steal-“

            “No,” he interrupted. “I’m saying that I can- I’ll put on the suit and we can…“

            “What?” Phil bursted, even more confused than before.

            Finally, they made eye contact. “I’m asking you to pay for sex,” the guy explained in a clear voice so that there was no mistaking what he said. “I’ll put on the suit and you can fuck me. Or I can fuck you. Whatever.”

            “I just wanted the suit,” Phil voiced. His cashier huffed out a breath and let go of the card.

            “Okay.” He tapped at the register’s screen and pushed a keypad toward Phil. “I’m going to need you to type in your PIN.”

            Phil put away his card and did as he was told, silent. After a few beeps and clicks and a rip, a plastic bag was pushed toward him with a receipt on top. Phil grabbed its handles and pocketed the receipt but he didn’t walk away. The guy stared at him and he stared back. “I pretty much just spent the rest of my money,” Phil defended, “but I get paid next week.”

            “Okay.”

            “Okay.”

\-------------

            Phil never carried around more than 20 bucks of actual cash so the five 100s were burning a hole in his pocket as he walked from his condominium to the shop. He considered that he was hardly in a sketchy neighborhood and he could easily defend himself but it was New York. When he entered the shop, he felt one weight lift off his chest as another rested upon it. “Hey.” Phil turned and stood vis-à-vis with the blond from the previous week.

            “Hey,” Phil replied weakly.

            “So. Where are we going to do this?” he asked.

            Phil had thought of that. “Well, I figured we could just go to my place. I would say we could go to a hotel but I wasn’t sure how much I was going to pay you.”

            “I need twelve hundred.”

            Phil hadn’t thought of that. “Um, I only brought five hundred.”

            The guy sighed. “That’s fine.”

            “I could go get more but I’m pretty sure they shut down the ATMs at night so-“

            “It’s fine. Let’s go.” The guy turned and grabbed his leather jacket before heading out. Phil followed him, feeling a bit unsure for the first time. They walked about a block before the silence was broken. “So what’s your name?”

            “Phil. What’s-“

            “Topher. Short for Christopher. Or Chris. Doesn’t matter.”

            “You’ve really got to stop doing that,” Phil told him suddenly.

            Christopher looked at him sideways. “Doing what?”

            “Interrupting me. It’s rude.”

            Chris laughed. “Okay.” The rest of the walk was mostly noiseless in every aspect.

\-------------

            “Wow,” Chris said as Phil placed his keys on the table in the front hallway. He walked into the living room and watched Chris glance around at everything.

            “What?” Phil asked him in a joking tone, “Never seen such a luxurious apartment?”

            Chris continued to gander at Phil’s stuff. “No,” he declared. He took another look around before settling his eyes on Phil. “Where’s the suit?”

            “Oh. It’s- it’s on the bed in the guest room. Down the hall, second door on the right.” Chris nodded and headed that way. “Um, Christopher?”

            Chris looked back over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

            “You do know who the Captain is, right?” Phil didn’t really want to ask but the question was itching at his insides.

            Chris just smiled and kept walking. Phil didn’t know what that meant.

\-------------

            Phil sat on the edge of his bed and waited. He’d taken a look at the suit and it was pretty elaborate for a sex outfit. He waited for the estimated five minutes and then he waited another until _Captain fucking America_ burst through his bedroom door. He rushed over to Phil and grasped his naked shoulder. “Are you Phil?”

            Phil’s mouth was hanging open and Chris winked at him. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s me. I’m Phil. I’m, I’m such a big fan, sir.”

            Chris looked down and smiled. “I can tell.” It took Phil a second to realize that he was referring to his boxers, patterned with the Captain’s shield, and not the tent that had risen in his honor. Phil blushed anyway. “Well, Phil. Since you’re such a big fan, I’m going to take you on a mission with me.”

            And Phil let himself get excited.

\-------------

            The mission was a success other than the minor set back of Captain America getting a snake bite. “It doesn’t hurt, I’m fine. I just, the venom- Would you suck it out for me, Phil?” The Captain was sitting up against Phil’s head board, fully exposed so that his “wound” could be examined. Despite the fact that Phil didn’t understand how a snake bite could affect his cherished superhero, Phil nodded and bent down to put his lips between Chris’ legs. (Phil wasn’t really for giving blow jobs but at that point, he would have shot himself if Captain America asked him to do so).

After Phil was “pinned with his medal of honor,” he and Chris laid out on his bed. They were just heaving, trying to catch their breaths. “Thank you,” Phil relayed in a quiet voice.

            “I had fun. And I’m getting paid.”

            “Right.” Phil sat up and tried to remember where his pants were but Chris pulled him back down.

            “It can wait,” he stated. Phil nodded slowly and return to his spot.

            “If you don’t mind my asking, what do you need the money for?”

            “Books. For some reason, my student loan only covers the first semester.” Phil had a sudden, panicked thought that he’d just slept with a minor but then he remember that he was pretty sure sex shops didn’t hire minors.

Eventually, Phil could feel his own cum cooled and thick on his stomach. He was going to find a washcloth to clean up when he realized that he was completely naked. Yeah, he just had sex with the guy but he was still self conscious. While Phil had his little mental debate, Chris decided to sit up and he asked, “Can I take a shower before I leave?”

            Phil wanted to tell him that he could stay, spend the night and have breakfast in the morning, but he remembered that he wasn’t under the normal one night stand kind of circumstances. “Yeah. Um, you have to pull the handles on my shower, not turn them.”

            Chris stood as Phil talked to him. “Can I… do you have another shower?”

            Phil’s eyebrows scrunched together. “I only have the one. The bathroom in the hall has a regular tub.”

            Chris nodded slowly and headed into Phil’s bathroom. He turned on the light and closed the door behind himself.

\-------------

            Phil didn’t come back for about five months. Summer hit New York around that time, a pleasant, breezy beginning in June. People had started to press him, asking what his birthday plans were going to be. He didn’t tell them that he didn’t have anything planned but a Captain America-thon, he told them that his plans were nothing special and changed the subject. However, his coworkers had picked up on his lie; on his birthday, he left work with a few present bags and half a cake from his surprise work party. His rather exuberant taxi driver even sang him happy birthday on his way home. Phil accepted it all with a smile but really just wanted to get home to his own party.

            After winding down, he went into the spare bedroom with a bottle of beer and opened the closet door to reveal his Captain America collectibles, trinkets, souvenirs, and antiques. That was when he saw the suit in its dry cleaning bag, still pristine and mesmerizing.

            He checked his watch to make sure his bank was still open and left to take out some cash. The thousand didn’t really seem like much in comparison to his full paycheck but it still made him wince. When the teller asked him why he didn’t want to just put it on his card, he pulled an answer out of his ass. “It’s my best friend’s bachelor party.” The teller smiled at him and nodded knowingly, finishing the transaction before leaving to get Phil’s money. When he returned, he had a mischievous look on his face as he handed Phil his money.

            Phil went back to his apartment and read comics until he couldn’t wait any longer. He checked his watch again and breathed a sigh of relief; if there was any type of shift schedule, Chris would be working. He put away the comic he was reading before leaving again. He wondered as he walked whether Chris would do it again, if he’d gotten the rest of the money, if he still worked at the shop, _why_ he worked there in the first place. When he reached it, he still didn’t have any answers. He hoped Chris would be there to give him some.

            He walked in and heard the tinkling of a bell. He didn’t look up to see it, he looked at the man behind the counter who had looked up to see him. It wasn’t Chris.

            Phil walked over to the counter anyway. “Does Chris still work here? I mean, Topher. Christopher. Whatever.”

            He received a smirk and sort of regretted asking. “He’s in the back.”

            Phil waited for the guy to go get him or call for him, something, but he just continued to smirk at Phil. Phil found it difficult to restrain a sigh but he managed. “Could you go get him for me, please?”

            “Sure thing.” He turned and walked out of sight. Phil rolled his eyes and leaned against the counter. He saw something gold out of the corner of his eye and turned to get a better look at- “How can I help- Phil?” Phil turned back.

            “Hey,” he greeted casually, waving his hand as well.

            “Uh, hey. What’s up?”

            Phil shrugged. “Not much. You?”

            Chris eyed him warily. “Working. Is there something I can help you with?”

            Phil sucked in a breath. “What time do you get off?”

            Chris, he guessed, glanced at a clock before replying, “In about 30 minutes. Were you planning on… you know?”

            Phil couldn’t keep eye contact so he stared at the assorted condoms on the counter. “Well, yeah. It’s… it’s my birthday and I was just planning on staying home but then I looked in my closet and I saw the suit and then I thought of you and so I waited until I figured you were working and I just sort of showed up and I was kind of hoping maybe you would want to get drinks first and I was really hoping you would be here because if you weren’t, I’d be really disappointed and I’d probably never be able to look at that suit again and okay, wow. You could stop me at any time, you know. Obviously I can’t-”

            “I was going to but then I remembered that you said interrupting you was rude. Um, sorry. Anyway, happy birthday and all that.” Phil looked up and smiled.

            “Thanks.” He decided to not ask why Chris had remembered that and ask instead, “So, is that a yes or a no?”

            Chris smiled back at him. “Yeah, sure. Sound fun. But I have to ask, why me? You must have other people to spend time with on your birthday.”

            Phil shrugged again. “Not really. All the birthdays after 21 just seem a bit nondescript. Figured I’d make this one worthwhile.”

            Chris smiled a bit wider and nodded. “Alright.” He disappeared just like the other guy did, behind the counter and out of sight. When he returned he had his jacket and two sets of keys, the aforementioned guy in tow. “Don’t forget to lock up, Rob,” Chris told Rob, tossing him one set, before turning to Phil. “You might want to move over,” he warned. Phil moved and Chris hopped up, slid over the counter, and landed in front him.

            “Or you could have used the door,” Rob informed sarcastically.

            “Well that’s no fun,” Chris told him with a laugh. He grabbed Phil’s hand and walked him out.

            “I thought you didn’t get off for 30 minutes?” Phil questioned, letting himself be pulled along.

            “I lied,” Chris made clear. Phil blinked, surprised. He opened his mouth to say something back and then he was standing next to a motorcycle. “So, where are we headed?”

            Phil was staring at the motorcycle, though, so he couldn’t really answer. “This is your bike?”

            “Yeah.”

            “You own this bike?”

            “Yeah.”

            “You bought it?”

            “Well, no. It was a birthday present.”

            “Shit. That’s cool.”

            “Yeah.” Chris put a hand on Phil’s shoulder to grab his attention. Phil looked away from the motorcycle to see Chris grinning at him. “So. Where are we headed?”

            “I- I don’t know, actually. I didn’t really think that far ahead.”

            Chris laughed and handed him a helmet.


	2. You're a Pro

The summer passed rather quickly, the weeks ending and beginning and only existing on Phil’s Friday nights (and occasionally Saturday mornings, if Phil was lucky) with Chris. Phil got through the rest of the days pretending he had a secret identity, a day job and a common life. He hid who he truly was, a superhero alongside Captain America, from the rest of the world. The idea was a bit childish but it made things easier, especially the news that he would have to spend another year working.

            Not one to dwell on things, Phil almost forgot it altogether and immersed himself in his nights with Chris. He didn’t know what was going to happen once the summer was over but he wasn’t going to dwell on that either.

\-------------

            “So what do you do when you’re not saving the day, Captain?” Phil asked after a particularly long mission, Chris’ head resting on his chest. He felt Chris shake with laughter in response. Phil was spent and blissful so he laughed too.

            “Well, since school’s out right now, mostly just working and um, servicing my other clients.” Phil paused. The news that Chris did this regularly with other people, that he had clients, that he could talk about them- it -with such nonchalance, was quite off putting for Phil. He needed to stay quiet for a spell so that he could take it in.

            After a considerable amount of time had passed, Chris’ head turned upward so that he could look up him. “Phil?”

            Phil blinked a few times and then looked back at Chris. “You do this regularly? With other people?”

            “Well, not exactly. You’re one of regulars and you are the only one that makes me dress up,” Chris admitted.

            “Oh.” Phil was dumbstruck. He’d never thought of Chris like that, as a… a prostitute (Oh _god_ ). Then again, he had stupidly assumed he was the only one. He pondered before asking another question. “So, why do you… do this? I mean, you have a job so you must get _some_ money.”

            “Some doesn’t pay bills. Two hundred an hour pays bills and rent and student loans. Some buys me food.”

            Phil pushed past his inhibitions and just started to think out loud. “Was I your first?”

            Chris hesitated that time. “No. Well, you were the first I had to ask. I don’t know if you noticed but I was having a hard time.”

            “So it got easier after that?”

            “Sort of.”

            “Sort of?”

            Chris sighed and draped his arm over Phil’s stomach. “I don’t think it’s easy for anyone to do that. Maybe they get better at hiding it like I did but I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it so yeah. Sort of.”

            Phil mulled that over, the hand he had resting on Christopher’s shoulder moving to pet his hair. His fingers carded through the soft strands. “Are you used to me?”

            “I- Yeah. I’m used to you.”

            And that was the end of the conversation.

\-------------

            They had chats like that until the end of summer, learning about and sharing with each other. Chris, he had found out, was working toward his degree in Social and Behavioral Sciences. He wanted to become, of all things, a children’s psychologist. He talked spiritedly about it whenever he got the chance; the idea of working with children excited him as did the idea of studying someone’s mind. His eyes sparkled with excitement and put a smile on Phil’s face.

            Phil told Chris about his dream job, the one he’d wanted up until the end of high school: teaching.

            “Really?” Chris asked, dubious.

            “Of course,” he replied defensively.

            “I’m sorry. You just don’t seem like the teacher type, I guess.” That, actually, couldn’t have been further from the truth. The oldest of five boys, he great with kids and he had a protective intuition. He thought about teaching English or History to high school kids. He chose high school because that was a pivotal time in his life, the most definitive. Well, he would have chosen them if he had went to school for teaching. “Why didn’t you?” Chris asked on another occasion.

            “I changed my mind,” Phil explained. It was true but it wasn’t the whole truth; he had changed his mind but with the help of the agency. They told him that if he showed promise, they would give him a chance. A chance was more than Phil had ever dreamed of getting. A chance at his true dream job, the one that had always been just a dream.

            Phil was thankful that he still had his current job so that he didn’t have to lie to Chris who was so open with him despite their relationship. He told Chris as much as he could, mostly sticking with his past, and Chris did the same but with his whole life. Where Phil talked about growing up with his mother, step father, and four younger brothers, Chris talked about growing up with his mother and three younger sisters. Where Chris talked about his college courses and hobbies, Phil talked about the wild times he had with his frat brothers. Their topics varied greatly and, in the ten Fridays they had together, spanned over their entire lives.

\-------------

            Sadly, August rolled around eventually. On their last night together before the school year started, Phil took Chris out.

            “Phil, this is too much,” Chris protested after he pulled up in front of in front of a swank hotel in the Upper East Side. Phil got off the back of the bike and stuck his hand out for Chris.

            “Shut up and let me do this.” Chris did as he was told and took Phil’s hand, letting Phil tug him forward. Phil checked them into their room (the desk clerk dismissed him with, “Good evening, Mr. Coulson.”) and headed to the elevator. He handed the bellboy their duffel bags and entered the small room with a rather sophisticated air.

            “Phil,” Chris began in a wary voice.

            “Shut up, Chris.”

            Chris sighed. “Okay.”

            Eventually, the doors opened and they were escorted to their room by the bellboy. Phil tipped him before politely kicking him out and turning to Chris. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to have dinner but I made reserva-”

            “Yes.”

            Phil smiled. “Okay. Let’s go then.”

\-------------

            “I feel underdressed,” Chris told Phil under his breath. He was wearing a plain, navy blue button down and slacks; he was fine.

            “You’re fine,” Phil soothed.

            “I’m the only guy in this entire place that isn’t wearing a tie, Phil.”

            Phil took a second to scan to the room. “Why does it matter?” Phil asked when he saw that Chris was right.

            “Because.”

            Phil rolled his eyes. “Chris.”

            “Shut up.”

            Phil held back a laugh and adjusted his own tie. “Okay.”

            Chris huffed. “You’re an asshole.”

            Phil had to laugh then.

\-------------

            Phil never went back after that. He’d dropped off a birthday present (a pair of American flag boxers) for him at the shop a few weeks later but he never got a call or a text or even an email after that. He supposed that was just as well; in early November, the agency called to say that they were ready for him.

            Phil spent months in training. Long, rainy, uneventful months in training. December to March. Training. Despite his griping and less than friendly aura on more than one occasion, Phil gained some friends while he was there; Agents Beckett, Casey, and Morgan. They laughed at his lame jokes and understood his love for classic American literature. He really couldn’t have asked them for any more than that. Except when the time came that he had to.

\-------------

            “Delta, niner, niner, this is The Captain 347 requesting permission to land,” radio silence, “The Captain 347 to air tower, requesting permission to land.” Phil looked to his right, giving Agent Robert Casey a quirked eyebrow for which he received an unhappy look. Phil grinned back at him and handed him the plane’s passenger dispatcher.

            “Hey there, this is your pilot speakin’. I ask that you please buckle up for this here landing ‘cause it’s gon’ be a bumpy one. Yeehaw!” Three distinctive hollers were heard from the other side of the door. Phil laughed and replaced the dispatcher. After the preliminary switch-flicking and button pressing, they were ready to land. Well, mostly. They hadn’t cleared ground and had yet to find somewhere remotely safe to actually land but neither of those things were out of the ordinary for missions like the one they were on.

            “Circle around,” Agent Beckett advised from behind them. He was sitting in that one seat behind the copilot’s chair and pressing and twisting stuff. “Might be some barren half mile of sand around here that can save our asses.”

            “Or, with our luck, a half mile of brush. And sand,” Phil actualized, pulling off his headset.

            “Y’always gotta be so negative ‘bout ev’rythang, Coulson. Need ta see the brighter side of it all,” Casey chastised.

            Phil chuckled and shared a look with Beckett. “What is bright about being in an unknown region that is filled with enemies and weapons and forestation and is virtually impossible to escape?”

            Casey paused before grinning ear to ear. “’s beautiful.”

            They all laughed then. “That it is, Robbie. That it is.”

\-------------

            Phil wanted to break someone’s neck. “You endangered the lives of all of these men, including your own,” he said in a monotone, face blank of any anger.

            “There was nowhere else ta land, Ph-“ Phil had raised his hand to cut off Casey, who was flustered and disheveled. He wasn’t cutting him off because he was using his first name when there were _strict policies_ against it or because he had already heard the same line over and over again, he did it because he’d heard a noise in the distance. It was… it was…

            Footsteps! Phil had to think quickly. He whipped his head around, trying to size up their options which were either to run or to climb. Phil nodded once and looked to his men, pointing upward. He received the same curt nod from the five other men. They all stepped cautiously around twigs and fallen leaves to the thick-trunked trees around them. With deft hands and feet, they climbed and climbed; by the time the mystery steps reached them, they were well under cover.

            “Sir? Maybe they’ve gone into the water.”

            “Aye. To the shore, then.”

            There was a moment of silence before the shuffling of feet through the forest through floated upward. Phil waited. His men waited with their eyes on him, waiting for a call of  action. They waited even longer until Phil was sure they were alone. He almost turned his eye on Casey to whom he usually delegated second-in-command duties but changed his mind and signaled to Beckett. A few quick hand movements later, they were travelling through the trees from branch to branch with Phil leading the way.

They checked to see that the men who were looking for them actually went to the shore (Phil was a very cautious man) before making their way to the middle of the island. They stopped when Phil spotted a large building about two miles away. Not want to risk getting caught, they stayed in the trees. When Phil gave the okay, they all visibly relaxed.

            “ _For the love of god!_ I swear to you, the position of the sun changed while we were sitting there,” bemoaned Monroe, a younger agent. He was much like Phil and his friends were when they first became agents… which was a very long time ago. His friends got married, had children, had regular jobs. They were still far from retirement but they had certainly had their fair share of espionage and bloodshed. Working with a rookie was a bit of a stab but he was refreshing and just the opposite of a burden. However, he was also obnoxious and never knew when to shut up.  “And am I they only one who thought that one guy sounded like Long John Silver?”

            Everyone rolled their eyes and ignored him. “Alright. Let’s get down to business boys.”

\-------------

            Phil was upset. Well, okay. He was leaning against and holding onto Timothy Ike Monroe for dear life which was bad enough by itself. He’d also been shot in the shoulder and had some possibly severe blows to the head along with, by the feel of it, two broken ribs. Oh and he had to decide between letting the bad guy get away or letting his friends die. He was pretty sure he would be fired either way and he would still have to do all the paperwork for it. So, yeah. He was upset.

            Every so often, Monroe let out a timid “sir?” which Phil ignored for the most part. He needed to think. He needed time to think. But he didn’t have time. Still, he thought. In the end, he always knew what he had to do. With a lot of inner strength, he pushed away and limped forward. He stood as straight as he could manage when he addressed his friends across the huge, gaping hole in the floor. When he finished explaining his thoughts, they stared at him with serious expressions. Then Casey pulled out his walkie-talkie and Phil grappled for his own. “Phil.”

            “Yeah?”

            “Tell my family I love ‘em.”

            “Yeah.”

            “Mine too,” Beckett blurted.

            “I will.”

            “Same,” Morgan called out.

            “Of course.”

            “Phil?” It was Casey again.

            “Yeah?” Phil couldn’t help his voice cracking but he didn’t care.

            “You’re my best friend.”

            Phil laughed. “You’re getting soft on me, Casey. Man up.”

            The four of them shared a laugh and Casey put away his talkie. Not wanting the moment to end, Phil stood at attention and saluted them all. Lawrence Beckett, Robert Casey, and Dick Morgan saluted back. “We should go.”

            Phil whipped around. It was Monroe. He looked concerned. Phil nodded. “Let’s go.”

            They made it through the building, fighting their way past henchmen who were still there for some reason, and back to the plane. _3, 2, 1, lift off_. With Monroe’s assistance, Phil flew The Captain back home from it’s last mission.

\-------------

            While he was being debriefed, Phil remembered something. The memory stung but he smiled as he answered the question. “Tim said one of the guys sounded like Long John Silver.”

            He received an odd look. “Okay.”

            “Maybe British or Australian.”

            A look of understanding. “Oh. Yeah. Okay. Thanks Phil. Get well soon.”

            Phil continued to smile until the door closed. Right.


End file.
